


Nebel des Krieges

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Molestation, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a fun drinking contest, until it's not, and Eren's forced to basically reevaluate his entire life, and where Jean fits in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nebel des Krieges

Eight soldiers died today, but it was just a 10% loss of the formation – a victory.

They return home, the gates open, and they're surprised by a cheering crowd – it's late, but apparently the town stayed awake just for their arrival, taverns and inns still open, the people waving and reaching out their hands as they ride through.

It's only been months since he graduated, since he first shifted, but Eren is already a well known figure, and the people have started saying his name alongside _Captain_ _Levi_ and _Commander_ _Erwin_ as he passes. He sees children from the upper-story windows, pressing their faces against the glass, gasping and waving excitedly when they spot him.

"Ah, Eren, better not let it go to your head!" Hanji says when Eren waves back. "Now they know your name, they'll think they know who to blame when it goes bad."

But it's hard to stay pessimistic in a crowd like this, and everyone in Survey Corps – that still draws breath – is soon taking advantage of still open taps. Eren, Mikasa and Armin and most of the senior officers head toward a tavern with happy, upbeat music spilling out onto the street, but it's so loud and crowded that it only takes a second's pause in the entrance for Eren to get pushed aside, losing sight of everyone except for Mike and Erwin's tall, towering frames. He fights the crowd, trying to shove his way toward them, keeping his eye trained on the commander – but the sudden thought occurs. This might be an opportunity.

His fellow soldiers come back to the barracks loud and tipsy, disheveled and bruised, sometimes barely making it back in time at all. It's nothing like Eren's usual experience of drinking and eating with the elite squads, heading back to the barracks early, safe and sound.

High from the victory, from the cheering crowds and waving children - Eren has been so careful and cautious, safe and sound, for so long. Tonight, he'd like to try getting drunk and stupid. 

He stops fighting the tide of the crowd, walking along with it until it carries him to a sloppier part of town. He sees a bar, small with poorly lit windows, a handful of soldiers milling around on the outside, smoking and laughing. He grins.

Inside, Eren finds stares, and a sudden, pointed silence.

"If it isn't Jaeger _himself._ " This is said quietly - Eren clearly wasn't meant to hear it, or the tease that follows.

"Without his nannies??"

Snickers and whispers start slowly reclaiming the silence. Eren eyes the room, and feels like he ought be annoyed, maybe, but is mostly just overwhelmed, uncomfortable. Eren has never been good at backing down from a challenge, though. He refuses to be deterred, walking stubbornly toward the bar, and orders a drink. The bartender is an older man, unimpressed and uninterested in the dramatics of his patrons, handing it over without commentary.

Eren hunches up his shoulders as takes his post at the bar, this bar stool. This is his ground, and he's going to hold it.

He realizes it's actually been some time since he was on his own. There's always been someone – training camp under Shadis, then Trost, then being placed with Levi. He's been under watch near constantly for the past four years. He's never had to face the general public like this before, and he doesn't like the obvious rejection. He's not _one of them_ anymore. 

"Nice work today, Titan!" is a drunken shout from the corner and Eren's not sure if it's mocking or not. He stares angrily at his drink, not sure of how to react, and it only makes him angrier. There's more whispers after that, the place small enough for Eren to hear them all – 

"Surprised they let him out on his own like this. " 

"You suppose the commander knows?" 

"Think he'll transform if he drinks too much?"

Then, loudly, "I knew this place was a dump but I didn't think they let animals at the bar."

At that, Eren lifts his head. He knows that voice, that near-shout.

Jean's walking through the door, looking down his nose at Eren in – a playfully antagonistic way. He's loose and relaxed – Eren can tell he's had a drink already, probably with dinner, and is surprised to see Eren here, but not as displeased as he'd like to pretend.

Eren smirks. "You really gonna set yourself up for that, Horseface?"

"Move over," Jean says, shoving Eren's shoulder unnecessarily, there's more than enough room for Jean to sit beside him, and he does so easily, either oblivious or uncaring of the stares and sudden silence.

Eren shoves Jean back, and Jean almost calmly presses his palm into Eren's cheek, pushing him further and further away as he gets the bartender's attention. "Oi! Something strong and cheap!"

Eren scrambles for balance, but fails, tipping off the stool.

"Hey, asshole!" Eren jumping back up.

"Already on your ass?" Jean says. "Don't tell me _Armin_ holds his drink better than you."

 _Two_ indignities – both the insult, and using Armin to do it, gets Eren's blood going.

"You really want to see who can hold his drink?"

"As long as you promise not to cry about it when you lose."

Eren realizes, as they both tip up their glasses, glaring furiously at one another as they drink, that the stares have stopped. The small, smokey bar has come back to life. Jean's presence broke the spell, Jean treating Eren like a normal guy, like he always has, generally unimpressed with Eren's existence unless given a compelling reason otherwise. 

Eren likes this,  and he tips his drink up, toward the ceiling, finished. 

He slams  the mug back down, just a beat before Jean. 

"It's not a  _race_ , idiot," Jean says, sourly, annoyed that he lost. Because it is. It always is, between the two of them. 

They get another round.

~

"I'm not saying I'm drunk," Jean says, drunkenly. "But how the _fuck_ is Daz still here?"

Eren bites back a laugh, quickly, cause he's thought the same thing in the past, and it doesn't seem right. "Luck, I guess."

"Every time I think, _well, this is probably it, good luck Daz._ But when it's over, there he is. There he _always_ is. Fucking Daz. Good for him, but what the hell? Has he ever killed a titan?" 

"I think he's assisted," Eren says, biting hard on his smile, but is pretty sure that isn't true. Eren burps, covering his mouth to hide the steam of his repairing liver, but Jean's drunk enough not to notice. 

Eren could probably get drunk if he did it fast and hard enough, but they slowed way down after their fourth round, Jean more holding his mug, looking at it, swirling it around in the cup, gesturing with it, than drinking it. It's giving Eren's body plenty of time it heal itself, while Jean slowly gets drunker, and drunker. 

It's Eren's idea to move to the table after Jean fell off the stool for the fourth time, but assuming Jean actually started before he arrived at the bar, Eren thinks he's holding his drink reasonably well. This stuff is stronger than anything he's had before.

"Think Mikasa would like it here? Mm, Marco wouldn't," Jean says, but doesn't seem upset at the thought, resting his chin in his hand. Eren's trying not to ask too many questions, it feels kind of unfair given the circumstances, but it turns out that Jean is an exceptionally talky drunk, regardless of any encouragement he gets; Eren actually had to distract him multiple times from talking about his father, a vaguely heavy, unhappy subject that's never left sober Jean's mouth, and he probably wouldn't appreciate sharing now. "Marco didn't like crowds like this, didn't like drinking much at all."

"Yeah, I remember," Eren says. "Hey, finish that one already. We're going to be here all night at your pace."

"Nothing wrong with that," Jean says, but does as he's told, dutifully lifting his mug, drinking in long, slow, careful swallows.

"Aren't you two a little young to be in here?"

Jean slams down the mug. He's drunk enough to see this as an insult, a reason to fight, but Eren puts his arm over Jean's chest, forcing him back down. The guy – large, older, long hook nose – is looking at them warmly. They're being hit on. It's supposed to be a compliment.

"We're good," Eren says. Mr. Hook Nose is not definitely not joining them, and Eren doesn't want to fight, but he absolutely will if he has to, and he thinks that comes across in his tone. Hook Nose raises his glass peaceably and keeps going.

"What was _his_ problem?" Jean says after him, obstinate and loud.

"Think it's time for another round – oh, unless you're _still_ working on that, Jean?" Eren says with mocking sympathy, and the distraction works, Jean immediately tips it back, chugging sloppily, a few trails of alcohol escaping down his neck.

Jean slams his drink down victoriously, looking at Eren expectantly, like he's actually going to get praise for this, and it's kind of cute, so Eren does.

"Impressive," he says. and goes to get the next round. "Gonna nurse this one, too?" Eren goads when he gets back, sliding Jean's mug across the table.

"You wish, Jaeger," Jean says, and gets two good gulps down before it visibly goes to his head, eyes drifting shut, setting the drink back onto the table, slow and deliberate. "This is a great fucking bar."

Eren grins. He didn't agree at first, but he thinks he might now.

They drink.

~

" _Eren!_ "

It's Armin, and Eren can feel every eye in the place landing back on him. He groans quietly.

"Where have you been? Mikasa and I have been looking all over!"

"Just here with Jean," Eren says. He's still on the tipsy side of his last drink, can feel it in the numbness of his cheeks as he smiles. Jean opens glassy eyes, gives Armin a short wave. Then slumps down onto the table. Armin makes a move to help, but Eren holds a finger – wait. They both watch Jean's limp form. This could be it. Admitting defeat, throwing up or passing out are the terms for the contest, and they've decided on a fifteen second count. _Twelve…_ _thirteen… fourteen…_

Jean's head _flies_ back up. "' M good! I'm good!"

"Glad to hear it. I'll go get us another round," Eren says, standing.

Jean nods, eyes still shut , entire body swaying with it. He's gonna hit the table again.

"What are you two doing?" Armin asks, following Eren back to the bar,  glancing back at Jean with worry. 

"It's a drinking contest," Eren says, smiling wide. He burps quietly, allowing the steam from his healing liver slide through his teeth, and from Armin's expression it probably looks a little disturbing.

"Some contest," Armin says. He's annoyed by Eren's cheating and Eren smiles, watching him struggle with himself not to bring it up, not wanting to sound like a schoolmarm. "How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I donno, until he passes out or gives up, I guess."

Armin is unimpressed. "I'm heading back to the barracks now. You should both come."

"Soon. He's not going to last much longer," Eren says.

Armin rolls his eyes. "I hope 'winning' is worth getting caught hauling Jean back like this."

"Anyone can sneak in past – "

"Captain Levi is doing the check tonight."

Eren pauses. "Alright, maybe we'll slow down a little. Get his walking legs back."

"Curfew is in two hours," Armin reminds him.

"We'll be there!" Eren says, bristling. "Don't worry about it."

The truth is he's having fun with Jean, the normalcy Jean offers, moreso than Armin, who has always looked at Eren like he's something he's terrified of losing, which is nice, but like the stares and the whispers and the waving, like the formations strategically arranged to keep hundreds of human shields around him at all times… he likes just being Eren. And regardless of any amazing feat or failure Eren preforms, Jean is seemingly incapable of seeing him as anything _but_ Eren.

Armin wishes him exasperated luck in his journey back and leaves, and Eren decides now is a good time to start sobering up.

"Alright, Jean – "

He stops in the middle of declaring a truce. He stares at an empty table. The cups are still there, emptied, but Jean is gone. Eren smiles, putting it together that he's won, left alone at their table Jean finally admitted defeat, stumbled off to the bathroom.

But there's no one in the bathroom, and Jean's not out in the front, he's not at the bar. This could actually be pretty bad, and worry starts to prick lightly at the back of his mind. If Jean tried to walk to the barracks on his own, if he fell over somewhere, if Levi or _Erwin_ sees him this sloppy and disorderly –

Eren freezes. He's passed a group of necking strangers three or four times in his search, and now, he hears a heavy _sigh_.

Eren knows that sigh.

He didn't even know he did until he instantly knows what it means – it's Jean getting up earlier than he wanted, it's Jean finding out the kitchen _just_ ran out of bread, it's a twisted belt running along Jean's back that means he has to take off his gear completely to redo it.

Eren looks again. Mr Hook Nose is pressing someone against the wall, and Eren has never had sex but he's instinctively familiar with that motion, that rocking, repetitive _thrustthrustthrust_ of Hook Nose's hips, like he's trying to dig a place inside the body he grinds against, while the body rocks limply along with the movement.

The body is Jean of course, just barely visible over Hook Nose's shoulder. Eren stares in rising, manic confusion, trying to make sense of this scene: Jean's arms are draped over the man's shoulders, Jean's head slumped to the side, showing off the long, pale line of his neck, he's still flushed from his drink, body relaxed and limp – bobbing up and down, over and over, from Hook Nose's hips. In a moment of panic Eren actually thinks they're fucking right there, but he follows the movement of Hook Nose's hands and sees they're both still fully dressed, it's just mindless, obscene grinding, while Hook Nose _touches Jean's ass_ , sliding his hands all over Jean's general hip area. 

Eren is paralyzed, watching, until Jean lifts one hand, and tries to push Hook Nose away. It doesn't work and he sighs again, dropping his arm, eyes drifting shut.

Hook Nose is tall, but soft. Eren knows he's not a soldier, not an officer, he's no one, he's nothing, he has no reason, _no right_ to look at Jean, let alone touch him, and Eren feels no fear as he slams his hand into the man's shoulder.

"Hey!" Hook Nose is annoyed, and this amuses Eren. He doesn't fully realized how pissed off he is until he sees the pain in the man's face. Eren's pressing down, and now squeezing, _hard._

"Let go," Eren says. Hook Nose does immediately, fucking coward, hands up as he does, stepping away dramatically, and the dent in his pants looks absurd.

"Just having a good time. Sorry," Hook Nose says, as Eren scrambles to catch Jean's limp weight, now sliding down the wall.

Eren's decided not to start a fight, just get Jean out of there, back to the barracks and get this night over with, but when he turns around he sees them all, everyone in the bar, staring. Again. It pisses him off in a way he can't describe, and he spins around, slams his fist into that hook nose, laying him out, and storms out, Jean's legs wobbly and clumsy but doing his best to keep up.

A few people chuckle as they walk by, Jean's arm slung over Eren's shoulder, but they're otherwise ignored. Eren got exactly what he wished for: normal, drunken idiocy.

"Eren?"

"Yeah, Jean. It's me. We're heading back to the barracks."

"Okay," Jean says, sounding very young, and despite everything, doesn't fully grasp just how drunk is until he hears that. It isn't fun anymore. When Jean's legs give out completely less than a minute away from the bar, Eren actually starts to get very seriously nervous. They stop, and Jean gets up on his hands and knees – it looks like he might throw up, which would be good, but he can tell Jean is gritting his teeth, trying to keep it inside. 

"Come on, Jean, let it out," Eren says.

"No _way_ ," Jean slurs, like he thinks Eren is trying to trick him. 

"No, Jean, you won," Eren says. "Just - just let it out already, alright??"

Jean's body shakes in this weird rocking convolution, like he's trying to do what Eren asked, but all that comes up is a groan and meager wet spray, hitting the back of Jean's hand. He makes a sad whine in the back of his throat, wiping his hand clumsily on the grass. "Gross…"

"Gross if -" Eren says. "If you're an infant. Come on, _Jean Kirstein_ can throw up better than that, right?"

Jean tries to say something, Eren can't understand it. Then he's slumping over onto the ground, and this is worrying because his eyes are still open, glazed and unseeing. This isn't passing out, this is his body shutting down.

Men die from this.

Eren's heard about it firsthand, though never saw it himself. It always happened in the early morning, dragging his father from bed while Eren slept, only seeing him return home around noon with deep, frustrated sighs. It was always easy to tell when one of his father's calls went badly, and men drinking well past their limit nearly always did. There was very little that could be done.

Eren panics, lifting Jean's head and forcing his fingers down Jean's throat. Jean's eyes open, wide and sightless, and he gags immediately – his mouth feels wet and strange, and his entire body shakes against him. Eren pulls back, worried he might be choking him, and Jean's body follows with the momentum, like he might actually throw up, but it's another pathetic little hiccup. Barely anything.

He lifts Jean again, hoists up his limp weight, but it's harder now, both because Jean's unable to help and because Eren is suddenly, hotly aware of each connecting piece of Jean's body: his forearm connecting to his elbow, connecting to his upper arm then shoulder then neck, head tipping back limply, as Eren lifts Jean he imagines each of these connecting pieces straining under Jean's own unconscious weight, like they'll snap, rip from Jean's body. That Jean will fall apart, like he's seen the human body do so, so many times outside the walls. Jean is one of them: one of those fragile creatures that can't rebuild his parts, that can only break and try to mend the pieces he's left with. His body is poisoned now, rotting from the inside out, struggling to heal itself in a losing battle. It's the only body Jean has, and it is so – so breakable.

He's taking Jean to Armin, because that's where he knows to go with all of his problems, but then he sees Levi at the checkpoint to the barracks, just like Armin said, and fills with manic relief.

"Captain!"

Levi turns, and raises an eyebrow at their sloppy state, like he can't quite believe Eren would actively look for his attention when he's this disorderly.

"Help, please," Eren says, before Levi can speak, tilting Jean's weight enough that his feet leave the floor. "He's sick, he drank too much and he's really sick, please – "

Levi's expression smooths out, his mouth shuts, and he turns on his heel, gesturing for Eren to follow, up to the barracks.

Eren adjusts his hold on Jean in order to keep up with the captain's pace, shifting his hand down his waist, but suddenly Jean's limp body of loosely hanging pieces is alive, moving –

" _Stop_ ," Jean says, sounding truly, deeply annoyed, trying to tug free. It's weak and uncoordinated, but enough to make Eren stumble to the side, almost to the ground.

"Watch it," Eren snaps, and hates how he can hear the fear in his voice, the quivering edge there.

"… Eren?" Jean says. The realization processes on his face, and when it's finished, Jean's relaxed again, fight gone, passing out into Eren's hold.

Levi leads them past their usual sleeping area, pointing Eren to a set of private rooms, typically reserved for high ranking officers.

Eren picks the closest door and drops Jean on the bed, watching with a queasy feeling as Jean's body rolls, limp and unresisting, his thin chest rising and falling with shallow, erratic breaths.

Levi's back, carrying a cup of something Eren can immediately smell is disgusting, recoiling from the mixture. "Ugh, what's that?"

"It'd be a waste to lose Kirstein like some washed out barfly, wouldn't it?" Levi says, climbing onto the bed and straddling Jean's chest. This gets the fight back in Jean.

"Stop it," Jean says, both hands on Levi's chest, trying to shove him away. Levi barely has to shift, pinning Jean's arms to the bed with his knees. He pinches on either side of Jean's mouth and starts pouring the awful concoction in, but Jean sputters, getting it all over his face and neck, tossing his head to the side.

"Keep his mouth open," Levi says,  pressing down on Jean's forehead to keep his head still. 

This is when Eren realizes he's practically drifted to the other side of the room, terrified of the scene. But Eren's helped with stubborn livestock back in training, and once he makes it back to Jean's side he does what comes to mind first, slipping his thumbs on either side of Jean's mouth, pushing his lips back to wedge in the back molars as Levi gets the rest of it in – Jean gags wildly, tries to shake his head – but one reluctant swallow, and Levi's immediately off the bed, not a second to spare before Jean's rolling over, vomiting violently.

Eren and Levi watch in silence: it's loud and sounds painful, Jean's entire body convulsing with it, arms wrapping around his middle as he heaves, over and over, the foul sickness spreading on the blankets and pillow, getting on Jean's jacket, his shirt, his hair.

"Disgusting," Levi says, dropping the cup into the mess. "I expect this sort of behavior from cadets. You really think this is appropriate for soldiers in Survey Corps? You think our standards are so low, that we would tolerate this disrespect?"

Eren literally can't feel worse than he does right now, Levi's words are a distant, numb sting compared to Jean curling into himself weakly on the bed. "I – is he going to be okay?"

"He'll probably survive. If he doesn't, he might be excused from shoveling out the stables as punishment for this stupidity."

"Sir, I was goading him to – "

"I'm shocked," Levi says, flat. From his stare it's clear he knows exactly what happened, how Jean had drank and drank, eventually poisoning himself, while Eren just watched. "You're going to spend your entire shitty life watching other people do the heavy lifting for you, Jaeger. You'll get to decide if you want to make that load any more difficult for them to carry."

"So it's actually _my_ punishment?"

"You clean this shit up, sit here until he wakes up, and see if you can figure it out."

Levi leaves, holding his arms out in front as if they were contaminated, though Eren's fairly certain he managed to avoid touching anything too foul.

"Ugh," Eren says, looking at the disgusting mess he's made of the bed, of Jean – of the whole night.

"Eren?" Jean asks as Eren tries to strip the plush, expensive bedding underneath him that is more than likely ruined.

"Yeah," Eren says, freezing in place above Jean, who stares up at him with that same confused expression before dropping back to sleep. Eren thinks he's got it figured out, and it's confirmed the next time it happens, when he sits Jean up to take off his jacket.

"Stop – _stop_ it," Jean says, pulling away.

"It's me, Jean," Eren says, tiredly. Jean stops his fight, focusing on Eren's face: he's trapped in the moment in the bar, Hook Nose pushing him up against the wall, replaying it each time he wakes. He's not going to shake it until he actually sleeps and _actually_ wakes up, and until that happens each false start is going to cycle to the beginning, the fight to get away that he couldn't manage at the time.

"Eren?"

"Yeah," Eren says. Jean sighs this time, staying upright as Eren uses a clean part of his uniform to wipe the vomit from Jean's cheek. Jean watches him closely for a moment.

"Are we making out?"

"No," Eren says.

Jean frowns, obviously wanting to argue this point – probably something to do with his awful drunk memories and Eren disrobing him, maybe the touch on his face feels intimate – but Jean's unable to gather his wits to do anything more than close his eyes and lay back down on the bare mattress. Eren's not even going to bother with the sheets, now, with that awful wet spot and Jean's still limp body.

Eren bundles up the soiled laundry, setting it outside the door for the staff. He's not sure what he's supposed to be learning here, what Levi intended anyway, but this is certainly a new kind of awful he's never experienced before and would do anything not to repeat.

He feels like he jinxed himself with the thought when he turns around and sees the bed empty.

" _Jean_??" 

But he's in the first place Eren looks, really the only place he could be, the attached bathroom. 

"'M gross," Jean says, shrugging Eren's hand on his shoulder away. "Gonna take a shower."

"No, Jean. You can take one in the morning."

"Fuck you," Jean says, then falls over his feet. He's already getting undressed, yanking at his boots. He's not getting very far, and Eren watches, waiting for him to give up or pass out again. When this doesn't happen, Eren sighs and decides to help. There's still dried vomit in his hair and whatever Levi fed him all over his neck and chest. It can't be pleasant.

"I'm still in my pants, idiot," Jean says, as Eren helps him over the rim of the tub.

"I know," Eren says, having stripped down to his own, too. He turns on the faucet, and they wait under the spray as it slowly goes from cool to lukewarm. After a beat of consideration, Jean decides this is hilarious – showering with pants on – leaning against Eren as he laughs, covering his mouth. It's actually a very pleasant laugh, husky and low from the abuse to his throat, honest amusement that Jean rarely ever shared with Eren.

"Mmm," Jean hums happily, clearly enjoying the warmth of the shower, trusting Eren to keep him upright. Eren manages to coax him into drinking a bit from the spray, rinsing out his mouth, before he drops back to unconscious uselessness.

There's actually pretty strict rationing when it comes to showers, even in the MP barracks, but these bathrooms were designed for officers and Eren finds it can get hotter than usual, and doesn't seem to have a limit. He ends up laying in the tub itself, Jean against his chest, under the warmest rainstorm he's ever experienced in his life. Eren's almost drifted off himself when there's a sudden _SLAP_ against his shoulder.

" _Stop_ ," Jean says, awake and trying to get up.

"Jean, it's me," Eren says without opening his eyes.

"Eren?"

Eren just nods.

"Oh," Jean exhales. He goes lax against Eren's body. Eren is just trying not to think, about anything, about the strange turns this night has taken, when he feels a soft press of lips against his collarbone. Then his throat.

Eren's eyes are wide open, staring blankly at the still running shower head.

"Jean?" he asks. Maybe he's gotten confused again, maybe he thinks Eren is Mikasa, or some random body from the town, or even Marco. Eren absolutely does not want to look over and see Jean's face, like before on the bed, he's terrified of what he'll see there, but he's not entirely sure why. He finds himself defaulting to anger, here, just because it's the safest emotion, but he knows he's not _actually_ angry about the touch, just – just surprised, just very, very surprised and confused. If Jean is kissing his chest because he's stupid enough to think he's Mikasa, he might actually get pissed.

But Jean's eyes are hot, considering slits. His pupils, what Eren can see of them anyway, are huge, and he's looking up at Eren and clearly knows exactly who he is seeing. Eren stares, unable to connect this image with the Jean he knows. This one is breathtaking. He touches the place on Eren's throat that he kissed with long, slender fingers, like marking his target, before going back down to kiss him again.

And then he throws up onto Eren's chest.

~

"Oi. Eren," Levi says, staring down the stalls, where Eren works alone, shoveling out the stables. "What do you think you're doing? I know Kirstein isn't dead."

Eren puts the shovel down, yanks down the cloth over his mouth to stare Levi down properly.

Levi cross his arms, maybe thinking Eren missed the point.

But he didn't.

Jean is one of hundreds. Unremarkable. He's got a sharp mind, but there are sharper. He's excellent with the gear, but he's always lacked intent in his strikes. He's got the potential – potential to develop his natural candor into something charming, something people might want to follow, but so do many others, and unrealized _potential_ is not worth dying for.

He knows this is the lesson Levi meant for him to learn. That Eren will fuck up, and others – the unremarkables, the one of many, ones with potential – will suffer for it, clean it up for him, and often die in the process. That putting a face to those people Eren will never meet, never be able to appreciate the sacrifice of, would be something valuable.

But that's not a lesson Eren can learn with Jean.

"Jean's still sleeping," Eren says. "I'm cleaning out the stables."

Levi watches a beat longer, then rolls his eyes and leaves Eren to it. He knows he better be spotless, now, that Levi's going to rip him apart if he misses so much as a cobweb in the rafters or rip in a sack of oats.

That's okay.

Eren is not in a position where he can clean up everyone's messes, not even his own. But there are a few people – just a few, there's only room for a very select few – that he can clean up after, comb the vomit out of their hair, help into bed, that he can get irrational about, protective, sacrifice for. And this is the lesson he learned: of course Jean is one of them.


End file.
